


Breakfast

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Bright Young Things
Genre: Breakfast, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 03:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20324182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Short, domestic Miles and Ginger.





	Breakfast

“Oh, you wonder,” Miles murmured, shifting his place slightly on the counter, and Ginger gave him a bright little grin as he sprinkled a few springs of rosemary and thyme over the omelette in the pan. It made such a darling sound, sizzling softly at scarce more than a whisper, as if it was worried about waking the other eggs, and Miles inhaled, taking in the smell of it.

“You’re sure one omelette will be alright between us?” Ginger asked, shifting the sausages and bacon in the other pan. “I don’t want to starve you, and there’s the fried eggs too, but I could scram—”

“It’s a veritable _feast_, Ginger, dear, I shan’t starve,” Miles murmured, and he pointed out one of his socked feet, hooking his foot about Ginger’s thigh and tugging him closer. Obediently, Ginger came closer, letting Miles wrap his legs about his waist, his arms around his neck, and he smiled indulgently up at Miles, the hilt of his spatula settling on Miles’ lower back.

“And will Mother be getting dressed today?” Ginger asked, arching an eyebrow. Miles chuckled, pressing a kiss to his nose, and then two more to his cheeks, and then another to his forehead, his chin – each kiss added in its turn, of course, for good measure.

“She hasn’t decided yet,” Miles said, looking sidelong at the various pans. “If you overfeed her, she might never get dressed again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind _that_,” Ginger purred, grazing his teeth over Miles’ throat, and Miles let out a breathless, giggling noise, carding his fingers through Ginger’s hair even as the other man pulled away and began putting things onto plates.

“Is that breakfast?” asked Agatha from the doorway. She was wearing a pair of Miles’ dark glasses and one of Ginger’s thick robes, leaning heavily on the jamb of the door. Looking past her, Miles spied one of last night’s lucky ladies leaning heavily against her back, her face buried in Agatha’s shoulder, and he idly wondered if the other one hadn’t stayed the night after all, or if she was still asleep.

“It is,” Ginger said. “There’s fried eggs, sausages, bacon, the toast is on now…”

“I don’t eat sausages,” said the half-asleep girl.

“Yes, dear, I’m sure,” Agatha said wryly, patting the top of her head. “Sleep well, Miles?”

“More than you, I’m sure,” Miles said in a pleasant tone, arching an eyebrow at the young Sappho now pressing sleepy kisses to Agatha’s shoulder, and Agatha smirked. “Ginger, dear, would you put on some tea for these fine creatures?”

“Yes, darling,” Ginger murmured, looking as though he was trying not to laugh, and reached for the kettle.


End file.
